Come Get Me
by Blue-Eyes-Baka
Summary: UsUk, AU. Arthur gets bored and decides to go drinking, but then a girl starts hitting on him. Luckily for him, his big strong American boyfriend comes to save him and take him home. Arthur's POV, one-shot.


**This was just something I sat down and wrote. I had no idea where to go with it and no plot, so I just started writing and let go from there. UsUk, AU, Arthur's POV.**

**Enjoy!**

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It had started out like every other day. I got up for my first class—World History—made it to the lecture on idealisms about two minutes late, bought the cheapest lunch I could find, relaxed for half an hour and then got going to my last class. After college I spent nearly two and a half hours playing with my band mates in our drummer's garage, since he's the only one of us with a house. I gave my boyfriend a call, and he told me he had to stay after for a lecture that had suddenly sprung up. I'd made it home, alone, put my guitar away, flipped through the channels and got bored.

And I guess that's how I ended up here.

'Here' being slumped over a beaten up and slightly sticky bar counter with my head in my arms and a number of empty glasses next to my left arm. And to put it simply, I was completely and totally pissed off my bloody arse.

I had originally decided to just head out for a while, so I slipped on a tight fitting black sleeveless shirt with a red belt hanging around my waist but not attached to anything, skinny black jeans, black boots about one size too big for me, and a red bandanna tied around my neck. This sort of get up was actually pretty casual for me.

Anyone who saw me, dressed up like some 80s punk with dark eyeliner and dark bags under my eyes, drunk beyond any recognition would not guess that I was an intended History Major in my third year of College. And amazingly, I'm passing with amazing marks.

But back to the present; I lifted my head slightly so I could look over to my right as someone sat down next to me. It was some young girl, probably about my age or slightly younger. She had blonde hair, the type that was obviously falsely coloured (it was a wonder it was all still there with how _bleached _it looked), and she was wearing some tightly fitting clothed that could barely be considered decent for public. My gaze wandered up to her face when I realised she was looking directly at me.

"Had a difficult day, dear?" She said in an unmistakable American accent. She smiled a wide, bleached and fake smile. "We all have those,"

"Pfft," I responded, sitting up and leaning forward on my elbows. "I usually come here," I managed to slur out. That much was true—usually I ended up here once a week, but usually I have someone with me, and I'm definitely happier when drunk. When by myself, the alcohol just makes me realise how low and pathetic I am to be here by myself. I'm just here; I have no reason, no purpose.

"I thought I'd seen your voice before," she lied in her sickly false voice. "Aww, poor baby, you must be so lonely," she continued. I wouldn't have noticed her scooting closer to me had her bar stool not scraped obnoxiously against the wood floor. I had taken to running my finger around the rim of one of the empty glasses, just barely listening to the American's voice. "But I could make it all better," She said, and suddenly I became aware of her hand on my shoulder.

I may be drunk, but I knew what this woman was trying to do. "I haven't had a bad day," I said, my voice still horribly slurred. "I was bored and drunk more than I anticipated," the girl smiled and nodded, clearly not understanding a word I'd just said.

"I'll take you back home, okay, baby?" she said, that word sounding unnatural, sending a sick feeling to my stomach. "And I'll make you feel all better," her hand was beginning to move now. It was moving down my back, trailing lightly across my spine.

When I began to feel uncomfortable, I grabbed her wrist and turned to face her. She smiled again, mistaking my actions for acceptance. "Look, why don't you-," I began, but I was cut off by a loud, controlling and somewhat irritated voice.

"Leave him alone and go whore yourself out to someone else," the woman and I turned to the source of the voice. Standing in front of us a tall, muscular and very annoyed looking American with blonde hair and blue eyes partially concealed behind square glasses. His arms were cross across his chest, making him look more intimidating than he already was. The woman just looked at him as I dropped her wrist and jumped up from my bar stool.

I attempted to speak the man's name, but instead it came out sounding like a giggle, and I tripped over my feet. He caught me immediately, and my mood was already beginning to change.

"Gilbert told me I'd find you here," the male American said, picking me up to stand on my feet, but keeping a hand on my waist to steady me.

"Excuse me, but who are you? The English man and I were about to leave," the American female said, standing up and crossing her arms, as if trying to look important. However, she looked like a twig next to my tall, strong American boyfriend, who pulled me closer protectively.

"My boyfriend will be going nowhere with you," Alfred said in a voice that might have been rather terrifying, had I not been clinging to him and giggling and rambling uncontrollably and incoherently. I felt Alfred bend down slightly and hook his arm underneath my knees, pulling me up into his arms. I rested my head against his chest, losing all coherency of what was occurring around me, or where I was, or what I had been doing. All I was really aware of was that Alfred was holding me.

After saying something or other else to the woman, Alfred turned and walked out of the pub, and I was immediately greeted by a cold rush of night air, and I wondered vaguely what time it was.

Alfred sighed deeply and continued walking, holding me in his arms like I was his newlywed wife or something. I giggled at the thought of us getting married, when Alfred began to talk to me.

"Honestly, I wish you wouldn't just head off to the pub by yourself," Alfred said, but his voice bore no harsh tone or hint that he was even the slightest bit upset with me. Or maybe the alcohol was messing with my head. Well, it definitely was, it's alcohol, it does that.

"You … you were out, or something," I said, waving my hands wildly as I spoke. "You were out and I was bored, so I went to find something to do, or something," as I finished, I slung my right arm around Alfred's neck and let my head fall backwards, so I was staring up at the starry sky above me.

"At least take someone with you next time," Alfred said, walking up to our dorm room building. We lived not too far from the pub, which is why I went there so often.

"No-one was available, Al … I went by myself …,"

"Yeah, I know," Alfred said, shifting to hold me in one arm whilst pulling a key out with the other. "But look, I don't want you going off and getting drunk by yourself. This time it was just some slut hitting on you, but who knows what could happen,"

"I can fight them!" I yelled, flailing my arms and legs rebelliously, causing Alfred to very nearly drop me. Alfred opened the door and walked into the room, the door closing behind us. I heard the door click shut and the jingle of keys hitting a desk. Then suddenly I felt myself falling, but almost immediately my back collided with the soft padding of Alfred's bed. I squealed in delight and rolled onto my side, hugging Alfred's pillow tightly and burying my nose into the fabric, taking in the scent of coffee and something else, something just completely and undeniably Alfred. I loved that scent. I loved my Alfred so much.

"Sure, I'm positive you could fight them off whilst sober," Alfred said, lying down behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him, nuzzling his nose against my neck. "But I don't want you getting hurt. You're very vulnerable whilst drunk, honey,"

I smiled, let go of the pillow and turned to face Alfred, snuggling against his strong chest. "Alright," I said, as I felt my beloved boyfriend pull me closer. "I won't go drinking unless I'm with you," I concluded, wriggling away enough to look up into the handsome face of my lover.

Alfred smiled and kissed my forehead. "I'll hold you to that, Arthur," he said before pulling into a tighter embrace. I smiled and closed my eyes, suddenly very tired. "Sleep well, darling," Alfred said, before I drifted into peaceful and undisturbed peace.


End file.
